My Stripper Name Is "Trixie"
Britta also had the foresight to bring fizzy champagne and a bunch of hilariously gigantic phallus cookies that we decorated ourselves (I made mine look like it was winking). These had to be baked at her grandmother's house, so her grandmother was dutifully invited into the kitchen for a viewing... "No that's okay, I've seen plenty" was the bemused response.
The Bride-To-Be wore a veil and an obnoxious corsage. The rest of us wore pink name tags that were supposed to have our porn star names (i.e., your first pet's name plus your childhood address). However, the tags were a bit too short for names like "Pippy Seabreeze", "Chewie Lemon" and "Pumpkin Oak Forest". So we trotted around with generic stripper names instead: Cuddles, Spanky, Chiffon, Bubbles, Ms. Beaverhausen (in teensy tiny letters) and Trixie (me).
Other than the fact that we drank bubble-gum flavored "sangria" and listened to Terrible music at a tacky bar called "Howl At The Moon", I was struck by how much the "bachelorette party" has in common with ancient fertility customs...
1. Wine was a symbol of the Greek god Bacchus and was generally held to be an aphrodisiac.
2. Barley was frequently used to represent the female genitalia.
3. Many cultures have used various phallic symbols to represent fertility. (Today in Japan, you can still find small votive offerings being left at certain stone pillars).
But we were really quite conservative compared to our ancestors. We didn't sacrifice small animals; we didn't shave her head; we didn't make her eat anything disgusting. We didn't even have a stripper.
Around 2 a.m. I finally caught a ride with a very nice cab driver, who is required by Florida law to be a friendly Haitian named Joseph. Joseph and I chatted for a bit about the weather and the fact that I cannot speak French, which made him quite melancholy. I tipped him handsomely.
Then I went home to sleep.